


A Court of Glass

by SelfProclaimedUnicorn



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: A Song of Ice and Fire AU, Gen, asoiaf au, more tags will be added as it's slowly updated, seriously it takes winter less time to show up than it does for me to write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-07-15 20:25:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16070666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelfProclaimedUnicorn/pseuds/SelfProclaimedUnicorn
Summary: Peace has been the prevalent status for almost a decade. Everything is fine...until it isn't.Familial drama slowly spreads outside of the Noble Houses of Westeros and spreads throughout the entire country, plunging the Seven Kingdoms into chaos. Now even the nobility must scrape to get by without losing life and limb as war, rebellion, dissension, and intrigue overtake Westeros.Expanded Universe/AU set during the events of A Game of Thrones.





	A Court of Glass

Nervous energy coursed through Danyara’s body as she nervously fidgeted with the reigns of her horse, rubbing her fingers along the leather and giving it an occasional squeeze. It was the most she could do to alleviate her need to busy herself. At home when barely contained anxiety or excitement filled her small frame she would fidget with, and ultimately crush, the sewing or reading she busied herself with. A habit the Septa had gotten onto her about more than once when something particularly exciting happened.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

Daynara looked from the road in front of her to the source of the voice: Maliros. The Norvoshi man had joined the Pit Vipers long before her birth, some tie to the family involving her late brother. No one knew the full story, and he didn’t speak of it often...no one spoke of Eliar often. Even without this information that tied the man to her family he had grown to be like an uncle to Daynara, making him an obvious choice for her journey northward.

“I am fine, do not worry so much!” She smiled as she spoke, her face lighting up as she did. Each smile that graced her tanned face seemed to make Daynara glow like the sun itself.

“You know I cannot help but worry...” Maliros’s voice trailed off as he looked away from her. It seemed like there was something more he wanted to say, but it was unlikely that she would be able to get it out of him.

“Really, Maliros, you worry too much! I am just...I am excited is all! And this trip has been wonderful, has it not? I planned everything out _perfectly_ !” From the timing to the people she brought with her on this ‘covert operation,’ everything had gone off without a hitch. Not only was this a chance to meet her betrothed, in spite of what her family had said, her plans would surely prove she was mature. Could Tybera have even planned something so flawlessly? _Probably not._

“You do not even know anything about him. It would have...I think it would have been better if we had stayed at the Iron-”

She signed, exasperated. “Maliros, we do not know when my great-uncle would come back! Besides, he is related to Alssa, and Sheva loves Alssa!”

Truthfully, she did wish that they could have stayed for a small bit of time with House Clement. The idea of staying with her father’s cousins hadn’t occurred to her when she started her journey from Dorne that long month ago, but Daynara had to admit that her family had good ideas sometimes. And the advice to rest at the Iron Halls with her distant family had been something she would have been willing to follow if they had even been there. So she would have to rely on what she knew: anyone from a family that could produce someone her oldest sister thought so highly of had to be the perfect match, and she was going to meet her betrothed no matter what anyone said.

“Lady Daynara, I see it!” Her handmaiden, Natari, practically squealed as she gripped tightly to the sleeve of Daynara’s wool gown.

Daynara quickly turned her head, her mouth falling open a bit as The Dreadfort came into view.

Only a few towers were visible over the tall, solid black wall of the keep. Something about the walls that surrounded The Dreadfort seemed almost unnaturally imposing. Although it was in perfect upkeep the battlements seemed...jagged. It was like the battlements had been sharpened to a fine point, and if the wall reached any higher they would be able to poke holes in the sky itself.

A hush fell over the small traveling party as the horses approached the gate. No one had been particularly talkative since they left the empty keep of House Clement, but there was something especially somber about the quiet now. Daynara squeezed her eyes shut, working to process her feelings at this exact moment.

The look of just this most exterior part of The Dreadfort certainly explained the way Alssa dressed...her grim countenance. This was just the way things were for House Bolton. Yes. Grim and sharp and wholly unapproachable, but worth it. Worth the hard work, worth the journey...she would show them. She would show her family she could be just as perseverant as the rest of them.

“Lady Daynara,” Maliros’s voice was soft and comforting as he spoke. He opened his mouth to say something further, but Daynara didn’t let him continue his thought. She steeled herself, took a deep breath, and urged her horse forward towards the gate guards.

“I believe you are expecting us.”

There was a moment of silence as the two guards surveyed the group before them. Each passing second made Daynara acutely aware of how few people had come with her. Having only Natari and three guards had made quietly slipping out of Dorne easy, but now it seemed like a woefully small grouping as opposed to a true noble procession.

Finally, after more of the dreadful anxiety had set in the silence was broken by the distinct smack of one of the northmen sucking his teeth.

“Is this _all_ of you?”

“Yes,” Daynara swallowed before continuing, “I organized this meeting myself. It would have been bigger had my mo-had Lady Morrigan put the meeting together.”

The guard swept his eyes over the group again before shrugging and nodding to his silent partner. The two men opened the heavy gate, revealing the rest of The Dreadfort to the traveling party’s gaze.

The exterior walls, it seemed, were just an extension of The Dreadfort itself. The keep was just as tall, dark, and foreboding. The tallest of the towers, that Daynara had been able to see over the walls as they approached, seemed just as likely to pierce the sky as the battlements had. Bronze skeletons held unlit braziers near the door that lead to the interior of the keep, which at this point, she could assume would look just as grim as the exterior.

The guard who had initially spoken to them coughed to get her attention back and Daynara shifted her gaze back to the man just in time to see the other jog away towards the main building of the keep.

“Where is he going?”

“To get the Lord,” the guard motioned for them to follow as he continued speaking, “this way.” The group of five followed behind the man, still mounted on their horses, as he led them to the center of the courtyard.

The guard shifted awkwardly; obviously unsure of if he could return to his post. Before Daynara could tell him they would be fine waiting on their own the sound of the main door swinging open drew the attention of everyone present in the courtyard.

Out of the door stepped the other gate guard, followed by eight men of varying ages. Daynara watched as the guards regrouped and headed back towards the gate. Nothing seemed quite as...jovial as she had expected. There was no smiling; no talking...meeting her betrothed was more somber than Daynara could have ever anticipated. Maybe this was why her parents didn’t want her to meet him, to spare any awkwardness.

“Lady Daynara, I presume.”

She looked to see the face of who was speaking, and her mouth immediately dried up. Long black hair hung limply to his shoulders, and small pale eyes peered up at her. He smiled as he offered his hand to help Daynara from her steed, but there was something so off about that smile. The teeth were sharpened to a fine point just like the battlements of The Dreadfort’s walls, and there seemed to be an almost predatory glint in his beady eyes.

Daynara forced a smile of her own and took the young man’s hand, allowing him to help her off of her horse. As soon as her own feet touched the cold, snowy ground she heard everyone else in her traveling party shifting to dismount their own horses.

The oldest of the men stepped forward now. He was much more attractive than the man who had helped her from her steed, not that this was a difficult feat to achieve. He bowed shallowly before speaking. His voice was soft as he spoke, causing Daynara to take a few steps closer in order to hear Lord Roose more effectively.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Daynara. I am Lord Roose Bolton, and this is... _my son_ , Ramsay.”

Her heart dropped at those words. _This_ was Ramsay? He was so... _ugly_. Her eyes darted back quickly to Ramsay, only to see the same unsettling grin on his face. Daynara swallowed dryly before looking back at Lord Roose.

“The pleasure is all mine, my Lord.”

“When I read your raven I did not think there would be quite so few of you arriving today.”

“It was a bit difficult to put together a large traveling party when I planned this.”

He raised a brow at her response, and a barely visible smile pulled up the corners of his lips. “You put everything together yourself? How skillful of you.”

Daynara could not help but beam at this. In spite of the disappointment of seeing Ramsay, in spite of the uneasiness this meeting was bringing on her, the obvious praise of her ability to pull off her plan was impossible to ignore. When she returned to Dorne she most likely wouldn’t be able to expect this kind of praise from her family. Not for any negligence on their part, but because they had not been counseled.

“Thank you, Lord Roose. Perhaps...perhaps we could continue to talk inside where it is a bit warmer?”

He chuckled, a sound even softer than his voice if that were even possible. “Not warmer by much.” With that he turned on his heel and walked purposefully back towards the door of The Dreadfort, the thinnest of the men who had accompanied Roose and Ramsay outside holding the door open for him. Daynara supposed that was...an affirmative answer? What else could it be?

“My lady.”

Daynara jumped in surprise at the words, brought out of her slight confusion by the unexpected address. She turned her head to see Ramsay, offering her his arm.

“Thank you...Ramsay.” She pursed her lips and smiled as she took his arm. Every bit of her screamed in revulsion at the contact, but she allowed Ramsay to lead her into The Dreadfort regardless. After declining the marriage alliance with House Bolton this would be the only time Daynara would have to endure his touch.


End file.
